


Taken by the wind

by Mickeysam



Series: Taking in Strays [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Discussions of Medical Experimentation, Discussions of death, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Laura's the ultimate mother hen, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, directly after Age of Ultron, so much couple fluff, to a degree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-09-26 07:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20386066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mickeysam/pseuds/Mickeysam
Summary: Wanda didn't really go searching for parental figures. After her parents died Wanda had mostly written off the idea of having a family again beyond her brother, of having adult caregivers who looked after you because they wanted to, not because they wanted what you could do for them. She was perfectly content being without what most others her age had. Too bad Clint didn't get the memo.





	1. Wanda

"Fury won’t hurt you, I promise. He's an asshole, but he's our asshole. He's pretty damn fair about most things." Clint's voice was aiming for soothing and calm, Wanda was sure, but it didn't exactly strike any confidence in her.

It didn't really do anything at all to calm the storm inside of her at all. Wanda had her doubts anything ever would, and that she'd go through life feeling like she'd been ripped open, her heart crushed, a sinking feeling permanently eating a hole in her stomach.

Pietro was gone.

Novi Grad was gone.

People she knew were gone.

She'd worked with the enemy.

Twice.

And now the 'good guys' wanted to give her a chance. A way to move on with them.

The fascist evil dictators, the monsters of Sokovian legend that parents warned their children about, wanted to give her a chance to be good. They wanted her to move in with them and become a hero as well.

But apparently that offer was being interrupted for now, put on pause by some man called ‘Fury’ who wanted to 'interview' her first.

In Wanda's experience interviews came with medical examinations, with wires hooked up to her body, drugs burning through her veins, and every aspect of her life exposed for anyone to question.

"Not every fair man is fair in the same ways." Her clothes had been coated in the dust and ash of the only home she'd ever known, making them unsuitable to wear past that first day, so Clint had loaned her a pair of work pants and a t-shirt from his stash on the Avengers Quinjet.

It made her feel especially small, like a child swamped inside their parents clothes, as she sat cross-legged on a stranger's bunk, in a tiny cabin room somewhere inside the confusing maze that was the Helicarrier SHIELD brought to save her people that she'd helped damn.

She still had on the leather jacket Pietro had given her, stolen from the Black Widow – from Romanov's locker. The woman hadn't asked for it back yet, and Wanda wasn't sure she wanted to give it back.

A very selfish thought, but it was the last thing Pietro had handed her.

Clint rubbed her shoulder through the jacket, perched on the edge of the bed next to her, "You don't think so?"

His thoughts were calmer than most men’s, very direct and so much smoother than the jumble of her own mind. Most of his organized thoughts remained focused on the mission, on the cleanup and keeping track of his team through the earpiece he wore even sat next to her miles away from the cleanup.

Occasionally his thoughts would drift and Wanda would get a flash of different images, sometimes of a very small girl with light hair, or of an angry looking older girl with bright red hair, and a gun in her hand. Sometimes his thoughts flickered back to Pietro and Wanda had to try and force it away.

"I think men think they are fair, and that they do good things, and other men disagree," Wanda fiddled with her bracelets to try and calm her nerves, twisting them back and forth and making some jangle where the metal clinked together. "Strucker was fair to citizens no matter what they had or didn't, the Avengers… are very unfair."

"Every man is fair in a way that benefits him or his own ideals. Girl's got a point."

Wanda jolted at the new voice, reflexively moving backwards, red light dancing around her fingertips.

"Hey, it's okay, it's alright," Clint had moved too, arm in front of her to either block the man from reaching her, or to stop Wanda from reaching the man. "It's just Fury."

Just Fury, but Clint's mind flashed with protective thoughts and warnings, ways out of the room and off the helicarrier if he needed to move fast, how quickly he could move her. Who he could get on his side to overpower Fury's vote if prison neared her future.

He wasn't armed, but according to his rapid thoughts \ there were at least six ways he could be armed in the next thirty seconds.

Wanda wasn't sure if that was comforting, or frightening.

"Out, Barton. Ms. Maximoff and I need to have a little chat." Fury was much taller than she’d expected, and much broader. He seemed vaguely annoyed at the world if his expression was anything to go by, and his eye didn’t meet hers, instead focused on Clint.

"You might need a translator." Clint's words were calm, his mind calculating how easily he could keep near enough to listen in and not be spotted.

_  
Vents too small to get into, no windows, door might seal too tight, walls too thick to listen through, no spare comm. Leave his, no way to hear or talk to team._

"I'm sure Ms. Maximoff and I can figure out words between us just fine. Especially since Sokovian is not on your list of special talents." Fury didn't raise his voice, but like Strucker, his tone left no room for argument. Not without facing consequences  


She doubted Fury's consequences were the same as Strucker's, but who knew? Every man was fair in his own mind, and few subordinates would disagree with the majority’s opinion.  
People who were useful were treated more fairly than people who were not.

"It's okay." Wanda put her hand on Clint's arm, gently nudging it away. "I will be fine."

"You sure, kid?" The swap in Clint's tone from agent to worried guy was more noticeable this time, images of those same girls flashing in his head again, along with vague protective thoughts that she was sure even he didn't realize he was thinking of.

"I'm sure. He's... fair, yes?"

"Yeah. Out, Barton." Fury inclined his head towards the door, his eye watching Wanda with an unflinching gaze. His thoughts were chaos, switching between ideas and conversations, bits and pieces of things she couldn't identify, and what sounded like various songs on a loop seconds long at a time.

  
"You need me, you call out, okay?" Clint patted her shoulder again when he got up, letting Fury shut the door behind him, sealing the two of them alone in the room together.

Wanda tried not to flinch backwards on the bunk when Fury put his hand in his pocket, withdrawing what looked like a small phone that he sat on the table he stood by. One tap of his finger against the screen and her ears were filled with a high pitched noise that almost made her cringe.

The red around her fingers flickered faintly and she shook her head to try and clear it, "What is that?"

"Noise machine. That's a frequency normally only heard by people under a certain age, dogs, other animals. It's been known to make certain aliens very, very angry, and in our limited experience, it's just enough to distract enhanced brains and keep them from wandering." Fury leaned back against the table, his hands folded in front of him resting against his belt. "Keeping your mind, out of mine."

"Enhanced?" That device was going to make her ears bleed if it didn't stop, she was sure of it. It kept ringing inside her head like the time she'd smacked her head into the pavement when she was twelve, when it took days to make the ringing fade away.

"Believe it or not, you are not the first individual we've met who's strange. I think you've already beat up two of the other individuals we currently work with who are enhanced. You're also not the only one capable of neuro-electrical interfacing. You are, however, the only currently living human with it. So congratulations there," His reply sounded sarcastic, but Wanda couldn't focus enough past the noise to look and see if he was being sarcastic, or if he was genuinely impressed.

"It hurts."

"Yup." Fury sounded cheery as he said it, "So answer my questions without lying, and we can get through this quickly before we give you a migraine or explode your brain by accident. Long term exposure hasn't been tested on enhanced brains, but most humans survive just fine."

"Clint said you were fair." Covering her ears did nothing to keep out the noise so she dropped her hands again, wrapping her arms around herself, fingers digging into the leather of the jacket.

"I'm being extremely fair. You have an advantage over me, this little thing puts us on the same level. Even ground, makes us fair," Fury's smile wasn't exactly a nice one, but he didn't look malevolent. "Ready to have our little interview?"

"Yes." Wanda answered reluctantly.

"What's your name?"

Wanda tried to keep her eyes on his, "You already know my name."

He just stared back at her, seemingly unaffected by the noise that made her ears vibrate.

"Wanda Maximoff," She said finally.

"How old are you, Ms. Maximoff?"

He didn't have any sort of recording device she could see, but he wasn't taking notes either. If he was anything like Strucker this room was probably being recorded as they spoke, for further analysis later. HYDRA was SHIELD after all, two sides of the same coin, they probably shared some techniques.

"Eighteen." She lied boldly. Fury apparently didn't approve as his fingers inched towards the device, tapping it and suddenly making it much louder than it had been. The new noise was like a jolt in her brain and she yelped, "Sixteen. Sixteen!"

"Was that so hard? Answer with the truth, and we'll get through this much quicker, and simpler," Fury repeated his earlier assertion, turning the noise back to it's original volume. "How long did you work with HYDRA?"

"I thought I worked with SHIELD. They said they were SHIELD, and could help us." Her nails were digging into the jacket, feet tucked underneath her as she sunk low, making herself even smaller on the bed.

"When did you join SHIELD?"

"Two years ago. Give or take."

Fury pulled a chair out from the little table, turning it to face her and settling into it, "Why?"

"They say they could help us, and help us stop our country's war. Please, can you turn that off?"

Fury ignored her request, leaning forward with his knees resting on his thighs, "Help you how?"

"They only say 'help us', if we join them. Make us strong as your Iron man, and help end the petty wars in our streets."

"Who told you that?"

She tried to push past the noise, the pain it created, but it was hard to focus enough to try and see anything. She barely got a glimpse of that same girl with red hair, an older man held at gun point, and what looked like a giant room made of glass before the ringing in her head got louder and she was forced back into her own mind.

"Your eyes glow when you do that, did you know?" His voice was casual, his hand on the device raising the volume of it.

Wanda winced, instinctively covering her ears, "I'm aware."

"So let's try this again, who offered you that power?" Fury left his hand resting on the device, but he didn't turn it down. He watched her instead, his gaze unflinching.

"Doctor List. We met others later."

Clint said that Fury was fair, but Clint also said that Fury was an asshole. Maybe both were true. Then again she most likely did deserve something in return for peering into his mind like that. Most times she couldn't help it though, everyone's minds were too big, too noisy to drown out until she was used to them and could push them aside. Even then sometimes something particular 'noisy would push it's way through.

Sometimes things she never wished to see found their way through.

The noise turned down a notch, "How much later?"

"Weeks, maybe. With other volunteers," Wanda's nails were digging half-moon circles into her scalp behind her ears, but she couldn't bring herself to pull her hands away, to stop trying to block out the noise that couldn't be drowned out.

"How many other volunteers?"

It felt like forever that the questions went on, Fury circling back time and time again to the same few questions: Who gave you the powers, who else volunteered, why did you go with them, how many survived?

Questions she answered the same every time, Wanda was sure, since the answer wasn't multiple choice for the most part.

List gave them powers, with Strucker's help.

Dozens volunteered.

They went with them to help their country, because they were young and dumb, because anywhere was better than sleeping on the streets with the sounds of gunfire all around and Stark weapons ripping chunks out of their world.

No one survived.

No one but Pietro and herself, and now it was just her.

"You know, Ms. Maximoff, I believe you may be telling at least your version of the truth."

"Thanks," Wanda muttered tiredly. The machine's noise had left her head pounding so hard even her eyes were hurting, a block of pain all over. "What does that mean for me?"

"It means since I do not currently possess a prison that can hold you without keeping you drugged out of your mind for the duration of your stay, and you have three Avengers vouching for you and saying you deserve a second chance... I'm inclined to give you that chance."

Wanda stared at him blankly, "I helped destroy my country."

"Did you create the super murder bot?"

"No," Wanda shook her aching head, "But--"

"Did you set loose a dangerous AI on this world without knowing what you were messing with?" Fury continued, picking up the electronic device that held a world of pain inside it.

"No. I... I let them see the worst,” Wanda admitted, “and they made the worst."

"We don't blame the people who mouth off for the crimes of those they mouthed off to. And even if we did... You would not be the first person under SHIELD employ to do horrible things for horrible people. What matters is the here on out," Fury stood, tucking the chair back under the table, "You agree, you accept, you join the Avengers, you're theirs. You're under their protection, and you will abide by their rules. Their morals."

Her head felt like it was splitting, "Abide?" Abide, was that like abode? Past tenses? Her brain didn't want to focus on words anymore.

"Listen to. Obey. Their rules, whatever they lay down for you, are what you're going with. You screw up... Don't think they'll be lenient about it. One of them has no problem arresting his own brother, and the rest had no issue fighting that brother. I have seen Stark go toe-to-toe with friends before. Just because I don't have a prison that could hold you right now doesn't mean Stark couldn't make one in his spare time. You really don't like the man, do you?" His voice sounded almost amused.

She must have been making a face at the name, Wanda realized. "Stark killed my parents. His weapons destroy my country. Ultron killed my brother."

"Things like that happen when you manufacture WMDs for two decades." Fury replied glibly, as he stepped forward to offer her his hand, "Come on. I want medical to look you over before we release you back into Barton's care."

Wanda unfolded herself to move to the edge of the bed, cautiously reaching out and taking his hand. Instantly her brain was assaulted with images of that same girl she’d seen before with the red hair, dressed all in black, of a young man with light hair and a bruised up face.

  
_'-Carter's taking responsibility for him--'_  


_'-recruiting dumbass kids--'_  


_'You want to help make up for what you've done? Then get up, move on, and do something about it.'_

"You turned the machine off," Wanda tried to keep herself steady on her feet, aided in that by Fury's hand in hers, his other hand on her elbow to give her balance.

"You peer into my mind intentionally, force yourself past that little headache you got, your eyes go red for even a second, and I turn it back on." It was a threat, but held enough of a promise in it to have Wanda agreeing.

\---

They didn't make it to medical. The moment Fury opened the door to the corridor outside they ran into Clint.

Almost literally, since the man was sat across from the door, his feet propped up on the frame of it.

"What the hell'd you do to her?" Clint was on his feet in an instant, his hand on her arm as he took Fury's place, smoothly moving her across the hallway to be at his side again, placing himself between Wanda and Fury.

He was putting himself between her and potential danger, Wanda realized with a little surprise.

"Nothing. We just had friendly chat, that's all. We were on our way to medical to get Miss Maximoff checked over." Fury's voice was amiable, almost amused.

The headache made it hard to concentrate on images, on others thoughts and ideas, but it also made it harder to keep those thoughts pushed out of her head.

Everything was there, and nothing was clear.  


_Young man, light hair in spikes, bruised face, defiant - 'You can fuck off if you think--'_

_Older man, black, eyes narrowed in suspicion, anger, 'You really think that punk is--'_

_'Fuck you!'_

"-- You taking her then?"

Wanda shook her head, trying to bring herself away from what seemed like ancient memories, leaning into Clint a moment for balance against the growing migraine.

"Yeah. I'll get her patched up in the jet. We'll look into a doctor once we're back in New York."

"Your doctor just flew away while big and green." Fury countered.

Big and-- right, the Hulk.  


Dr. Banner.

The man who's mind screamed with an anger she'd never felt before, with fear and rage that made her own seem insignificant in comparison.

  
A mind she'd dug into, twisting and pulling at the dark corners with her own anger and hurt urging her magic onward, bringing forth long forgotten memories of being so much smaller, so much more powerless, hiding from voices screaming, quaking in fear.

Fear that had turned to a savagery Wanda hadn't expected as the beast inside protested violently to being made small and powerless again

  
Most people frozen when faced with the worst their minds held.

  
She hadn't expected him to attack.

  
"--other doctors."

Right, focus on the present, there were conversations going on, Wanda chided herself.

"Like Dr. Cho who's currently undergoing her own medical care?"

  
Clint shrugged, wrapping his arm around Wanda's shoulders instead of just resting on her arm, letting her lean into h

im fully. "We got prospects. You don't know everything we get up to."

"That so, Barton?" Fury definitely sounded amused, his stance more causal than when he'd been talking to Wanda. "Fine then. By the power invested in me by a woman with far too much faith in you, I declare this kid your responsibility. She screws up and it's on your ass, not mine. Understood?"

  
Clint shook his head, "I'm flashing back to 2001."  


  
_Girl, red hair, 'you don't want me on your side'._

  
"2001?" Fury scoffed, "I'm distinctly remembering '92, and a very annoying smartass punk with an attitude problem."

  
_That boy, busted lip, dark eyes, furious hand gestures ending in a middle finger towards the black man who faced him down._

"Yeah. I'd apologize but my SO told me not to lie to you," Clint's smile was cheerful, his hand tightened over her arm, "My trainee, my responsibility, got it."

"Don't disappoint me, Barton."

"Me? Never."

  
\--

  
The quinjet was mostly taken up by supplies, the floor coated in dust and rubble. Against one wall Stark slept sitting straight up. Probably his first time resting since everything began.

Natasha had been resting earlier with her own blanket under her head, but no one was taking more than an hour or two at a time, too intent on getting to any possible survivors who were out there.

Helping everyone who might need help.

Actions that were directly contrary to everything they'd ever heard the Avengers were.

"I can help, I'll be fine." Wanda tried to protest. Her head was still pounding, but that was her home out there.

Her people.

Her fault.

She should be helping.

"Yeah. You can help after you rest." Clint maneuvered her so Wanda was stuck sitting down onto the metal grate nearest to the pilots seats. There was a blanket still strewn haphazardly there where someone else had been laying earlier that was easy enough to settle onto. "No one wants a helper who can't think straight."

"I'll be fine. It's just my head." Still she let herself lay there instead of fighting to get back up, resting her head on her arm.

"Uh huh. Tylenol. Can you do Tylenol?" Clint walked away from her, and she could hear him shuffling through something, the sound of paper crinkling.

Tylenol? The word didn't bring anything to mind.

"What is that?"

"Oh. Um," Clint hesitated searching for the word he wanted, "The stuff that stops your head from hurting. Pills but you can buy them off a shelf, instead of a doctor giving them to you, or getting them from a shady guy in an alley."

A shady guy in an alley. Wanda nearly laughed, either he had high aspirations for her country, or he didn't often deal with illegal things.

"Paracetamol," Wanda supplied the word for him, "And yes, I can have it. Luckily most drugs still work on me."

"Luckily, huh?" Clint returned to her side after a moment, two pills in his palm, and a thermos in his other hand, "What, you think you'd be like Cap and not be able to do anything fun?"

Wanda sat up enough to take the pills from Clint. She shouldn't trust him, not by any stretch. Who would? Who in their right mind would stay in the home of someone who had days ago been the enemy and take anything they offered?

  
"Yes. It was a risk, we all knew it. Pietro can't--"

  
Pietro.

  
'Pietro can't take anything now,' she'd been about to say.

  
'Pietro can't get drunk, or use any medications, as his body processes them far too quickly.'

  
But it wasn't true anymore, because Pietro couldn't 'do' anything.

  
Pietro was dead.

  
She popped the pills into her mouth to avoid saying anything else, and she swallowed them down with the stale, luke warm coffee the thermos contained.

If he was planning to poison her it might not be a terrible thing right now.

At least she wouldn't be alone anymore if he did.

"It's gonna be alright, kid," Clint said into the deafening silence, "I know it doesn't feel like it, but it will."

His fingers brushed against hers when he took the thermos back, and she got the impression he honestly believed his own words.

But some people could convince themselves of anything, couldn't they?

"I'll get you if we need anything. In the meantime... get some rest, okay?"  


Rest, sure. But Wanda nodded anyway, laying back down and using her arm to cushion her head.

* * *

_Tumbling through emptiness._

_Darkness around._

_Cold._

_Silence._

_Not even the sound of his own breath, since no air could reach him._

_Staring into the abyss, into eternity and all there was to be seen was fire and death._

_Falling._

_Not fast enough._

_No way out, no way back._

_She didn't answer the phone._

Wanda woke with a gasp, trying to catch her breath. She wasn't lacking oxygen, but still it felt like she hadn't been breathing same as him.

Stark.

It was enough to drive her mad, suffering through that war mongers nightmares.

It had been bad enough back at SHIELD – at HYDRA, she supposed now – where the soldiers thoughts weren't always kind, and secrets, lies, and the worst of imagery lurked in the dark corners of minds waiting to be released in sleep.

When she was in Novi Grad proper and not always in the base, she couldn’t get a moments sleep most nights, as even the smallest children occasionally dreamed of bombs falling, of destruction and bullets and fear.

She'd only been in the United States a few days, staying at something Steve had called 'the compound'.

It had surprisingly less to do with a cult than Wanda had expected, despite being a facility that housed the Avengers.

Housed the Avengers in the main building at least, as it seemed the other buildings were taken up by scientists, or agents of some kind who gave them all a wide berth.

Or they gave her a wide berth, one of the two.

The compound was 'still being finished' which left her sleeping in what had apparently been Natasha's room, as Natasha was staying with Steve in his room.

Staying with him and the baby.

The baby. That... that created conflict she hadn't expected.

Wanda pulled on a hooded sweater Clint had loaned to her, pulling it on over her t-shirt and pajama pants, and set out to at least see what he was up to, since she wouldn't be getting any more sleep anytime soon.

She hadn't expected to see the baby again. It had never crossed Wanda's mind as a possibility.

She'd assumed him dead, honestly.

It was logical, to think that baby Ilya had died the same day that Selene had. Why wouldn't he? They had received the serums at the same time, with Ilya's body absorbing it through his mother's, before he was existing on his own as a separate entity, and no one survived once they were enhanced.

No one but the twins.

Ilya, that tiny baby with such soft skin and pale eyes that didn't seem to match any colors.

The little one who's mind was so quiet and calm it was like the eye of a storm. His little mind only revolved around food, sleep, and his mother's voice.

The last time Wanda had seen him, it was in the infirmary at the base. The infirmary where she hid next to his bassinet trying to focus on his drowsy mind and ignore the screaming.

The screaming that echoed louder in Wanda's head than in the base itself. It was always louder in her mind.

All the enhanced subjects screamed their way into eternity.

Some raged in anger, burning themselves out in their fury at the soldiers and their caretakers– no, captors.

Other's shrieked and screamed as their new powers surged through their systems, scorching and immense, trying to take over everything that made them human, until there was nothing but silence left.

Kašpar had been completely silent when his body lost it's battle against the changes, except to Wanda who could hear his pleas to everyone and everything that stayed trapped inside while the soldiers fought to get the fire inside his room under control before it could try and spread through the facility.

Maybe it should have.

But then... Then in the quinjet she'd returned to find that same mind she'd missed before within reach.

It took her a little while to work out that the baby Natasha, had held was indeed Ilya.

  
The poor creature's mind a mess. The thoughts revolved around fear and cold, and the sounds of the world ending around him. Nothing like the calm it used to hold.

It wasn't until a few hours into their flight back to New York that a stray thought crossed his mind - a thought he probably didn't even know was a thought yet - and Wanda could hear Selene's voice clear as a bell.

_"Je tu můj malý Víla kníže! Není třeba plakat, máma je tady."_

Was it even worth it to tell anyone who he was? Without telling them, they'd just assume him a random lucky Sokovian orphan, give him a new name, a new life.

  
No one would every connect him to Strucker and List out loud.

  
He could be normal.

"Morning, kid," Clint called out the greeting from the living room's floor, where he sat showing Natasha how to get the infant dressed and cleaned up without fuss. "How'd you sleep?"

"As well as ever." Wanda watched the baby, and had no doubt anymore that he was Ilya. He had that same dark smudge mark on his chest that Selene's baby had.

Selene had teased it meant he was marked by the fairies who were jealous over how pretty he was.

Pietro said it meant he was bound to be a greedy thing.

Selene had thrown a pillow at him for it.

Leave it, Wanda told herself. Leave it alone. Don't look back, don't think to the past.

Give him the chance you won't get.

But somehow the words came tumbling out anyway.

"Is that a bruise or a birth mark?"

"A birthmark. Might get lighter as he grows, might not. A lot of kids are born with them." Clint's voice sounded somewhat quiet over the rushing of blood in her ears, her heart beat speeding up as if she'd done something wrong.

Something risky.  


"Huh." Wanda moved forward and leaned against the back of the couch to steady herself. She could still pass it off as curiosity but... He deserved his name. "You said he was blue? Very bright, yes?"

Natasha responded that time, turning quickly as she picked up Ilya into her arms. She settled him against her shoulder easier than Selene ever had, hand on his back. "As bright as your magic..." Natasha hesitated and Wanda could see the fear and anger that came across her mind. Not directed at Wanda, but on Wanda's behalf. "Please tell me he's not yours."

_'-sadistic, experimenting assholes taking advantage of street kids--'_

"No," Wanda interrupted Natasha's thoughts, trying to brush them out of her own mind as well, "He might be Selene's. They took her baby away. He was noisy, and he had a mark on his chest. Also on the back of his head, like a strawberry. My... Pietro said he'd heard a mark on the front like that was bound to be a sign of greed."  


It wasn't much of a lie, enough of one to count, but not enough that they'd catch her on it. Ilya hadn't been very noisy, he'd been sweet and calm.  
  
There was no might about his being Selene's child, when Wanda could hear Selene's voice clear as a bell inside Ilya's thoughts.

"Yeah, well the only thing he's greedy for is another bottle," Clint sounded like he was trying to diffuse the situation for some reason, and those same threatening thoughts flitted through his mind.

Natasha didn't take his bait though, eyes on Wanda's while she rocked gently in place, cuddling Ilya to her, "Who's Selene?"

"One of the people they were testing on. They took many of us. Only Pietro and I survived more than a few weeks. She had him after they injected us. When she died they took him away." As she died they took him away, her only comfort, her darling baby. Her little _Víla kníže_. Her everything. But the Avengers didn't get to know all of that. Wanda wasn't sure she could speak all of that, "She called him Ilya, if that helps."

"Yeah that... that helps. This Selene... did she have a last name?"

"Last name?"

"A uh a second name? Like the one shared with parents, a surname? Something to try and look up her family from." Clint clarified.

"Not that I know," Wanda turned away from him as she lied, moving into the kitchen to try and avoid having to face him and to locate something warm to drink, "there was no point in knowing too many details when no one stayed long."

"How long did she stick around?" Natasha asked, and Wanda could hear her writing something down. Probably notes to try and search up anything they could. What could you even find, when their entire home was in ashes.

"A few weeks." Wanda tried to sound like it wasn't any of her concern, like she didn't really think much on it, but she wasn't sure how well she managed that to the trained agents. She pulled a plain looking mug out of the cupboard and settled on getting some of the coffee that had been left in the pot.

  
Foul stuff, but it was easier than searching out the stuff to make tea, or making a better coffee.

"How many of those after the baby – Ilya? – was born?"

Natasha's pronunciation was spot on first try which shouldn't have surprised Wanda in the least. "Two. Maybe three. I'm not sure. She was last to die." Wanda kicked herself for adding that detail but it wasn't like the Avengers didn't know Strucker was messing with humans, experimenting on making them more than human.

"Yeah? They do anything once she died?"

"I don't know," Wanda answered honestly that time, only stalling briefly for a sip of the stale, bitter coffee. "They went away, probably with Dr. List. I'm sure they were given a funeral of some sort."

She hoped anyway. Pietro had always said what prayer he did remember for anyone who died, though their religious education had been severely lacking since their parents death, and didn't exactly mesh with the religion their 2nd orphanage tried to teach them before they left.

She may have hoped they were given a funeral, but judging by the thoughts from both adults who exchanged a look, they highly doubted it.

Their thoughts flashed through war and cities she only knew briefly, areas where dirt had been disturbed by many feet and compacted back down again, the landscape deserted, to empty cement rooms, and the inability to breathe.

Thoughts she didn't want to dwell in.

"Yeah, okay. So what--" Clint paused his words, scowling and glancing back towards the hallway where voices were starting to echo up towards them, loud and angry and mostly incomprehensible still. He groaned and ran his fingers over his hair, scratching lightly, "New plan. Let's go get donuts. Wanna come get donuts, Nat?"

Natasha made a face and sighed, "I'll see how much I can keep tempers calm around here. Maybe he'll keep his voice down and listen if there's a baby involved."

"Doubt it. You got shoes kid?" Clint glanced at her feet but was already working his way towards the hallway and the nearest exit.

"Blue pair by the door's fair game," Natasha called after them, over the ever growing voices of Stark and Steve.

"--really going to just let them call me--"  


  
"-- _You _are the one who--"

"Second thought," Natasha shifted Ilya in her arms, snagging a bag that sat by the couch, "a trip out sounds great. Carseat's in Steve's truck."

* * *

The donut shop was cold, and mostly empty. A few people sat at various tables, and clerks chatted quietly behind the counter, shooting glances their way occasionally, but they were left alone.

Natasha and Clint weren't as well recognized as Avengers, Wanda was sure. She hadn't known their faces before Sokovia. They weren't publicized and put forth by everyone.

She was a nobody, no one knew who she was, so there was some anonymity. That might change, if Stark had his way and she was lambasted publicly for her part of what went down in Sokovia.

Wanda wasn't meant to know about that particular argument, but it wasn't easy to hide secrets from her.

She mostly listened as Clint and Natasha chatted, both about things that didn't really mean anything, unimportant everyday conversation.

They were intentionally keeping things light, talking about tv, video games, local news, places she'd need to visit and things she'd have to replace.

There was debate over the 'best' donut, though Wanda thought most of them were rather cloying. At least the ones she'd tried.

Clint seemed to disagree, as he packed them down as quickly as Pietro could, drinking a coffee that was almost the size of Ilya it seemed while he did.

  
Ilya himself was asleep still, cuddled up in Natasha's arms while she spoke, keeping one hand free for her own coffee.

His mind was once again mostly peaceful, with the occasional twinge as his mind drifted in dreams.

  
"Can I hold him?" Wanda blurted out, interrupting the light-hearted bickering about hazelnut vs vanilla iced coffees.

Natasha and Clint shared a look, Natasha hesitating for a moment before she nodded, "Yeah, yeah sure. You do know how to hold a baby, right?"

"I have held him before," Wanda sat with her legs tucked under her on the seat opposite of them in the booth, holding her hands out automatically when Natasha stood from her seat by Clint, moving around the small table.

Ilya was heavier than he'd been the last time she held him, when he was so tiny and red. He still tried to tuck his knees up underneath him when Wanda held him to her shoulder though, hands curled into fists by his face.

"Nevěděl jsem, jak moc jsi mi chyběl," Wanda pressed a kiss to Ilya's cheek, one hand on his back, the other on his bottom to keep him in place. Ilya inhaled at that, feet digging into her chest lightly, and his mind brought up thoughts of Selene's voice. "Omlouvám se. Nejsem její," Wanda kissed his cheek again and relaxed back against the corner of the booth, pretending she wasn't hyper aware of the other two watching her closely now.

She mostly tuned out their thoughts, their conversation, focusing in the quiet relaxation that came with holding Ilya. The tension in her slowly easing away, the pit in her stomach not so deep.

He was warm and soft, and just so content to be held and loved.

Her coffee was melting – and how dumb of a sentence was that? –, their donuts cooling, but she didn't mind.

"There's something we need to talk about, kid." Clint spoke up into the silence a few minutes later, when he and Natasha had paused in their fake small talk.

She tried not to tense, keeping her eyes closed, head against Ilya's, but she did make an interrogatory noise in reply.

"About where you're staying," Clint's voice was level, no emotion to it really, but when she peeked into the edges of his thoughts they were filled with that red haired girl, and of her brother, broken on the ground. "New York's a bit... iffy right now with everything going on."

"Stark wants me gone." Wanda translated without the tact he was trying to show. Tony Stark who blamed every nightmare, every bad thought he had while she was in New York on her.

Stark who tried to say Sokovia was equally her fault, for influencing him.

Stark who thought she was trying to kill him, and still wanted him dead.

"That uh that's part of it," Clint agreed, "But it's more... they're playing the blame game, kid. They're trying to point fingers and figure out whose head this all falls on. Right now there's more bickering about that than anything. Hill and Fury are working their magic, but while you're still an unknown... it might be best to get out of New York."

_'-before Stark does anything else and blames it on nightmares she gives him-'_

"And where do you suppose I stay?" Wanda asked, patting Ilya gently more to soothe herself than him. "I don't know the streets well here yet, and Fury said a prison for me would be hard to achieve right now."

"No, no prison, no streets," Natasha clarified before Clint could. There was less of a fake calm to her, though a little more worry that Wanda could sense. "A safe place, out of state. Somewhere to hang out a week or two. Get things settled here, give you time to adapt a bit more to the states."

"Safe places are rarely safe in my experience," Wanda opened her eyes, glancing at them. Clint held a look of concern, so did Natasha. Her expression was more open than his was though, more sympathetic. Why would an Avenger, the Black Widow, sympathize with someone like her?

"This one is," Clint promised, "It's my place. No strings attached, and no, not just me. There's... others there."

_Small children, playing on the floor, lighter haired girl, dark haired boy. Dog barreling through a yard and scrambling up steps._

_Cats winding their way around legs begging for any scraps from a smiling woman working on something at the counter top--_

"Others like me?"

"Not quite. But I think you'll fit in."


	2. Laura

_ May, 2015 _

* * *

  


Technically Laura was only given about 16 hours notice that Clint was bringing home a young girl who had within the last week tried to hurt a whole bunch of people, sided with a genocidal Android, and worked for a hidden Nazi organization.

But realistically she'd known the moment he called her from the helicarrier after Sokovia turned to ash in the air that she'd be pulling out the air mattress to lay out in the half finished nursery for the girl he'd absolutely be bringing home.

  
_'Her name's Wanda. God she makes me think of Nat. Back when Nat had chubby cheeks and a murderous streak.'_

  


Nat, Natasha, the girl who'd shared Clint's – and then Clint and Laura's – apartment in New York for years. Who became just as revered as a SHIELD agent as she was feared as a Black Widow.

  
Natasha who went from someone who'd once shot Clint, to someone he named Godmother to two of his children. Probably three, when their latest made his debut.

  


Clint had a soft spot for the unwanted, the unlucky, and the ill tempered, and Laura loved him for it.

It was why when he saw the kill order for Natasha he took it, and found a way to turn her instead of murder her. A way to bring her to SHIELD and to his side, even though it’d taken a year and many injuries to do it.

It was why they owned a slightly terrifying orange cat that treated the barn like it's private castle, several black cats that roamed across the out buildings, two birds that couldn't figure out how to fly, an abandoned one-eyed mutt, and a goat that's only use in life was to mow lawns.

  


And now, apparently, another teenager that may have tried to kill Clint, and had almost certainly managed to do a number on Natasha's mind along with her brother, enough so that Clint brought Natasha home stumbling and off kilter in more ways than one.

  


"Does she speak lots of English?" Lila pestered Laura, leaning against Laura’s legs, head resting on her stomach where the baby occasionally kicked and stretched, testing it’s movements.

  


"I assume so," Laura answered, based on what limited knowledge she did have, "Your daddy said we could talk to her without a lot of trouble."

  


Lila hummed and nodded, resting her head against Laura’s side, "Is she nice?" 

  


Laura laughed, "Yeah, I uh I don't think your daddy would bring home anyone mean, what do you think?"

  


"I think Albert's bite-y," Lila replied sagely, in reference to their moody goat. "But he's not mean."

  


"Why a girl?" Was Cooper's only protest to the matter, diligently working in his coloring book, "Why couldn't he bring home someone cool?"

  


"Who do you suggest?"

  


"Captain America," Cooper answered, face straight, "He'd be a cool brother."

  


"He's too old to be a brother," Lila protested with a drawn out whine, "And girls are nice. You already get a boy with the baby!"

  


"Ask them to make the next baby a girl then," Cooper made a face at Lila who stamped her foot and stuck her tongue out in return, still half hidden by Laura.

  


God grant her the grace it took not to want to put both of them in time out until Clint got home. "Be nice," Laura smoothed Lila's hair back soothingly, shot Cooper a look, "And no talking about next babies when this baby isn't even out yet."

  


"You have to have at least four of us," Cooper told her anyway, flipping through his book to find something new to fill out, "Three boys and dad is enough to play two on two basketball. Lila can't throw for anything."

  


"I can too!"

  
As if in response to his siblings arguing, Laura felt her unborn son twist, rolling over and kicking his feet out hard against her ribs.

  
This was going to be a long day.

  


\- - -

  


It hadn't even occurred to Laura to ask how Clint was planning to get home until she was halfway through working on dinner, Lila chattering away a mile a minute as she worked coloring at the table.

"Mom!" Cooper yelled for her from the living room, his yell setting off the dog into a barking fit at whatever it's owner had spotted, "Dad's home! He brought a plane. Can I go in it?"

  


"A plane?" Lila was off of her seat at the table in a scramble, heading for the front porch faster than Laura could follow after her. "That's not a plane!" Laura heard her protest, the front door flinging open with a thunk into the wall.

  


"Hey, careful!" Laura yelled after her daughter, nudging one of the cats back away from the door as Cooper slipped out of it in front of her. "You break the wall your dad might just knock it down and build something else."

  


"That's not a plane," Lila repeated anyway, stood on the steps of the porch, grinning into the sky where a very dark jet was starting to settle into one of their currently empty fields. "That's a jet. Daddy's got a Wonder Woman jet."

  


"Don't be dumb, Wonder Woman's jet is invisible." Cooper scoffed, but he looked impressed all the same, "Dad's more like batman."

  


"Don't give him ideas, and stay back." Laura warned them both, a restraining hand on either of their shoulders. The jet looked pretty similar to the one he'd landed only a few days ago, taking up the same spot in their fields. Probably one of the official Avengers Quin jets, since there wasn't a blaring SHIELD logo across the side of it. 

  
"Think she's nice?" Lila asked for what seemed like the dozenth time that day, shifting from foot to foot next to her mother on the steps, both watching as the jet quieted, and the external lights disappeared.

  


"I bet she is," Laura tried to reassure her, even with what little she knew of the facts of the last week. "She's going to be sad, but I think we can help with that, can't we?"

  


"People are allowed to be sad," Lila leaned back into Laura, suddenly a little unsure when the jet bay opened, and two people appeared on the ramp out of it.

  


Clint had a bag that was quickly tossed out and into the yard as he found himself with his arms full of their son, tackling into Clint like Cooper hadn't seen him in weeks.

The girl next to Clint was more hesitant to move forward, hovering back behind him on the edge of the ramp. She was nearly as tall as Clint, to Laura's amusement, and looked like she was in borrowed clothes.

  


Or was it the new teen fad to wear baggy clothes like they had in the 90s?

  


"Yeah, they are. They're allowed to be sad, because sometimes feelings are just too big aren't they? C'mon, let's go say hi." Laura took Lila's hand in hers, regretting her inability to pick her little girl up.

  


Lila's steps were small, hesitant, and by time they'd crossed half the yard Clint was jogging up to meet them. 

  
"Hey, sweetheart!" Clint had no problems at all scooping Lila up into his arms, kissing her cheek and settling her onto his hip, "What do you think of the plane?"

  


"It's like Wonder Woman's," Lila informed him sagely, hugging him tightly. 

  


"Yeah? I think her jet might be cooler though. Everything she does is cooler, cause she's Wonder Woman," Clint leaned over to give Laura a hug with his free arm, greet her with a kiss, "And I can't best that."

  


"You're hardly leader of the Amazons," Laura agreed with a smile, leaning into her husband briefly, "Gonna introduce us?"

  


"No mocking name?" Clint shifted Lila around and let his hand drop to take Laura's, "I'm stunned."

  


"I don't know any short comic book characters, I'll get back to you on that one."

  


Cooper didn't seem the least bit daunted by someone new around, face lit up as he chatted away, trying to carry the bag Clint had left on the ground. It was probably just as heavy as he was, given the way he shifted on his feet trying to keep it off the ground and keep himself from overbalancing.

  


"Is she nice?" Lila asked Clint in that same whisper-worry tone, her temple pressed against his as they crossed the yard.

  


"Very," Clint assured her easily, "Almost nicer than me. It's true. I know, it seems impossible huh?"

  


Laura resisted the urge to roll her eyes, squeezing Clint's hand lightly instead. 

  
Wanda, the poor kid, looked like she was trying hard not to fidget. Hands stuffed in her pockets, shoulders hunched.    
  
"Laura, Lila, this is Wanda, she's an Avenger like me," Clint gestured to Wanda with a smile, bouncing Lila lightly on his hip to make her laugh, "Wanda, this is my wife, Laura, and my daughter Lila."

Lila's response was a quiet hi and a wave, face hidden against Clint's shoulder, when Wanda actually said hello and looked at the little girl.

She'd warm up within the hour, most likely, and be jabbering away as if Wanda had been her best friend her entire life, Laura was sure, but for the moment she was going to cling.

  
Laura's greeting was interrupted by a loud shrill beeping radiating from their home that made her jump, the beeping quickly joined in chorus with a howling dog, a yowling cat shooting past them into the darkness, and an annoyed noise from the goat's pen.

  


"I left dinner on the stove top," Laura said flatly, closing her eyes and sighing before turning, glancing back towards the house, "I may have burned the potatoes."

  


Clint snorted, "I'm on it."

  


His jog back to the house wasn't hindered at all by the child in his arms, that lucky bastard.

Cooper gave up trying to carry the bag, letting it drop to the ground so he could chase after his dad, laughing about the alarm going off, "Does that mean we get pizza?"

  


Great first impression, good job, Laura chided herself. First time meeting someone new Clint was trying to help, to give a second chance to, and her son was bounding about, her daughter shy as can be, and she sets off alarms.

  


Alarms which she'd seen in the past be very triggering to certain people from different situations

  


Damn it. 

  


At least Wanda didn't grab a weapon like Natasha did the first time the popcorn maker set off the fire alarm in their apartment.

  


"Sorry," Laura apologized out loud, making a face and gesturing helplessly, "The kids were in a hurry and... mom brain?"

  


"Mom brain?"

  


Wanda had a thick accent Laura didn't recognize beyond broadly Eastern European; those were definitely some Slavic vowels. With an accent like that, and a background like Clint had explained briefly, that meant Laura most likely had the chance to once again explain dumb American jokes and slang to a somewhat dangerous Eastern European youth.

  


Yay.

  


"Oh it's a dumb American joke that pregnant women lose some of their intelligence to the baby," Laura tried to explain simply, "That they become easily forgetful or miss things. Like leaving potatoes frying on a stove top and going outside to chase their kids."

  


"No fire, babe!" Clint yelled out the front door after her, half waving a pan he set onto the concrete steps to cool, smoke still coming off it, "We're good!"

  


Laura made a face, "Well, I did have plans to give you guys a decent welcome home dinner."

  


Wanda was quiet for a moment, studying her, and maybe Laura was mistaken but she thought she saw a tinge of red to Wanda's eyes that faded in the darkness. "It's alright. Clint said we had to bring bagels and donuts. He says small towns do not make them correctly."

  


"Oh if that man brought me New York bagels I might just let him paint the nursery again." Laura covered her stomach with her palm where little feet were pounding out a rhythm, "Don't tell him I said that. He's been dying to repaint it from cream to something 'cool' now that we know what we're having."

  


"The night sky," Wanda said softly, lifting up the bag Cooper had been struggling with. That time there was no doubt in Laura's mind that Wanda's fingertips were turning red, as was the bottom of the bag. Like ink in the water, the red twisted and wound itself in the air like it was twirling to some music Laura couldn't hear. "He thinks it would be pretty to give the baby the stars to see."

  


"Yeah, maybe," Laura agreed, watching the red strings of energy twirling around the bag. She didn't back away, or pull back, determined to stand her ground even if it worried her.

Even if she was afraid or unsettled, the absolute worst thing she could do would be to show it, or back away, to create any thought in Wanda that she might have scared Laura. If Wanda wanted her to be afraid, it gave her the satisfaction of knowing she had succeeded, and if – like Clint thought - Wanda really was just a scared girl who needed to be set on the right path, it wouldn't do for anyone involved in her life to show fear of her.

  


"So uh, the red," Laura half gestured to it, to Wanda to follow her as she started back to the house, "What's that doing?"

  


"I'm sorry--"

  


"No, no," Laura interrupted Wanda's apology, watched the red flicker and the bag's heavy weight drop fully onto Wanda's shoulder, "I'm just curious. What's it doing? Was that just making it not heavy?"

  


Wanda smiled but it was an uncertain smile, "I-- no, it was just holding the weight for me. So I don't... I can carry it myself."

  


"Don't stop on my account," Laura gestured again, returning the smile with a much more cheerful one, "That could come in handy around here. Especially on grocery days. Clint tries to take every bag into the house in one go, and it never works out."

  


"Grocery?"

  


"Right, European. Shopping. When I do the shopping. American's tend to stock up on their things a month at a time, not once a week. I know, we're weird. We also keep washing machines in their own room, not the kitchen," Laura added with cheer, side stepping the smoking pan of potatoes on the steps, holding her hand out without thinking to help Wanda up behind her, "We're strange like that here in the States."

  


\---

  


"Neur-- say that again one more time," Laura prodded Clint, trying to catch the words he used. 

  
Clint laughed, sprawled out on his side on their bed, "Neuro-electric interfacing."

  


"Neuro-electric interfacing. Okay. So neuro means neurological, so the nervous system. Electric should be obvious given what impulses shoot through the nervous system," Laura inclined her head in thought, trying not to look at Clint's grin, "and interfacing... since I don't think you're talking fabrics I'm going to go with interacting with something, or connecting with it like a computer does. That's kind of a really wordy way of saying 'she can interact with peoples neurological impulses' isn't it?"

  


"Like your way wasn't just as wordy," Clint snorted, "Neuro-electric interfacing is what Hill called it. So telekinesis, mental manipulation... telepathy."

  


"Would she be the one who put Natasha into such a bad state?" Laura watched him out of the corner of her eye, pretending to be busy flipping through photos on his phone from his most recent 'adventure', but she didn't miss the way he winced at the question. So she was correct in thinking it was Wanda nad her brother then.

  


"Yeah she... yeah, that was her. She’s got this thing where she can like... dig into your head, bring out the bad crap you don't want to think about and make it real again, trap you inside this... well, like a nightmare but it's your reality," Clint shifted about on the bed, wriggling almost as bad as their kids to lay with his head against what remained of Laura's lap, hand coming up to rest on her bump, "But she's not... that was when she was under HYDRA's control, following Ultron's lead."

  


"I feel like we've had this conversation before," Laura mused, sending herself one of the photos off his phone of Natasha in her uniform still cradling a very small bundle.

  


"Have not."

  


"Yeah, we kind of have. Only it was more 'yeah she's a trained assassin with a huge kill count and a hatred of the US Government who shot me but that was yesterday, today she's on my side'."

  


Clint tried not to laugh, pressing his forehead lightly to her bump where the baby inside squirmed as if recognizing his father was nearby, "First of all I said she hated SHIELD, not the US Government, and I never said she was on my side."

  


"You did. You said she was kipping on the couch because she was on our side now and she deserved a second chance," Laura brushed her fingers through Clint's hair affectionately, sending herself another photo. "So Wanda... what's her risk? Telepathy, telekinesis... seems... kinda dangerous."

  


"It could be, can be... has been," Clint admitted, fingertips drawing idle designs on her belly, egging on motion inside, "But she shut it down when she joined our side. I know it wasn't that long ago but... She isn't just deciding to come to our side to see what it's like, or for a better life and more things, or for her own protection. Hell she isn't even like Nat with self interest at stake. She's been on her own just her and her brother since they were ten, in a war zone, and then she was in with SHIELD being experimented upon--"   
  
"Except SHIELD is HYDRA."   
  
"Bingo. So the Avengers are fascist assholes and evil and the enemy, and we take away the only people who care about them or took care of them, and leave them the perfect enemy to team up with cause Tony's an idiot and created something that despised him and us as much as the twins did. They switched sides to join their long known enemies because they couldn't stand by and watch the world end. They were okay with Tony hurting, and screwing with us, but I guess there's a line drawn at 'ending the world'," Clint sighed at that, shifting around again to lean up on his elbow, ribs across her legs, "Ultron, the uh the thing Tony made, it killed her brother and it was like... the world exploded around us. All these robots just turning into nothing but red lights and bits of twisted metal."

  


"Twisted metal?"

  


"But she didn't use it after that, not once the battle was over. Not that we've seen, anyway," Clint tried to clarify, "She's probably inside minds and doing little things to move shit, but she hasn't been sending out bad memories or taking over things. Fury got her with a sound device to gave her a migraine while he interviewed her, and she just took it. Didn't fight back or put him through what she did to the others."

  


"She's trying to be good."

  


"Yeah. Tony..." Clint wrinkled his nose, "He's been having nightmares since Sokovia. Jumping at shadows, bad dreams, anxiety attacks. He's blaming Wanda because she has the ability to make you live nightmares that never happened, and relive the worst of your memories, which is part of why she's out of the tower and here, just until they get a few more rooms at the compound livable and they sort out living arrangements."

  


"Hauling her out of the line of fire, smart." Laura nodded. It didn't surprise her in the least that Tony would hurl accusations of power use against Wanda, not when she had used them in the past, and when she'd directed them at him, at the other Avengers. It didn't help matters that people with anxiety often could experience paranoia, and Tony certainly had reason to be paranoid, "But you don't think she's doing it?"

  


Clint shook his head, "I don't think she'd jeopardize her new situation. I think the bad in her left when Ultron died, honestly. Without an adult egging her on... She's just a kid who got caught up in a fucked up situation with the only adult figures being ones with agendas and really shitty ideals. You can tell when she's doing big stuff anyway, so we would have caught her at it. Her hands and her eyes glow. This bright red, like some kid's cartoon villain. It's cool, but really weird."

  


"Red eyes take warning?" Laura couldn't help but tease.

  


"Yeah, exactly," Clint snorted, "Good way to put it. I don't think we'll have any problems though."

  


"I'll hold you to that," Laura settled on a photo of the baby Natasha had found and smiled. He was fairly pale, with little wisps of dark hair. Face too skinny for a baby, but who knew if he'd been fed properly or at all for a while. "He's adorable," Laura told Clint after a moment, flipping the phone so he could see the photo she was on before turning it back to herself. "I'd say we'd take him in a heart beat but..."  
  
  


"We've got this one on the way?" Clint pressed a kiss to her bump as if to prove a point and Laura rolled her eyes.

  


"No. I'd still take him and we could have Irish twins like Grandma," Laura nudged Clint playfully making him roll back to lay down again, "They'd be adorable, we could have matching outfits."   
  
"Then what's the 'but'?"   
  
"Natasha's obviously not letting go of him anytime soon. I call Godmother status when she calls to tell us she's keeping him and we have to act surprised."

  


* * *

  


Having Wanda on the farm didn't change life nearly as much as Laura had thought it would.

The teenager went out with Clint in the early morning to feed their slight menagerie of creatures, and helped him with breakfast. She answered endless questions from Lila and Cooper about Sokovia – patiently correcting every time Lila mixed it up with Slovakia –, about her being 'powered up', and repeated countless phrases in Sokovian.

It was typical of small children to demand a performance from someone new or out of the ordinary, but Wanda handled it gracefully. None of the stomping or hiding that most people in her situation would display.

  


Laura had caught her once stacking building blocks with her powers to see how high she could get them for Lila, crafting a towering spire of glowing red. Wanda had stopped and let the blocks fall back to the ground when she caught Laura's glance, however.

  


She honestly had expected worse.

  


Early days with Natasha – back when she was Natalia – had included stolen clothing, knife sharpening in the living room, guns under pillows, threatening the neighbors, and attempts at seducing Laura's husband.

Well, he'd been her boyfriend at the time, but he was still hers.

Attempts that were gracefully rebuffed by Clint who never once faltered in thinking Natalia could become a good person, if given the chance. Even when she 'accidentally' shot a hole through the floor and into their downstairs neighbor's kitchen table when the man below them started up another argument with his wife.

  
Wanda hadn't been raised the same way Natasha had been, Laura assumed. While she followed after Clint at his every step when possible, she didn't look at him with that cold calculation, or even with any form of intent. She made Laura think of half the strays Clint brought home to nurse back to health, looking at their savior with stars in their eyes.

  


"The TV's not working mom," Cooper complained to Laura the moment she entered the kitchen for breakfast. His complaint was muffled by a mouthful of eggs, accompanied by a wave of his fork that sent particles flying.

For Wanda's sake Laura ignored the little dots of red in the air that blocked the mess from hitting the teenager.

  


"No?"

  


"No, the whole thing's off. Not even cartoons."

  


Clint cleared his throat and shook his head, "No whining bud. We'll get Netflix up later, okay? Besides, no reason you can't go play with your five hundred million toys, or outside. Lucky would adore you if you threw the ball for him."

  


"It's hot outside."

  


"Wear a cap."

  


Laura waved her hand slightly to the side once Cooper looked back to his food with disgust to catch Clint's attention. Normally she'd switch languages to confuse the kids if she wanted a private conversation, but she didn't know what all Wanda would speak or understand.

_'Why'd you shut the TV off?' _ She signed trying to be subtle about it.

  


Clint leaned back against the counter, making a face,  _'Stark's on it. Steve too, and lawyers. Debating who's to blame for Sokovia.'_

  


_'Who do they blame so far?'_

  


_'Stark. Banner. Surviving Sokovian's are vocal about the Avengers saving them, but there's no way to debate away the fact Stark and Banner built the thing that almost killed them all, killed the Earth.'_

  


Laura made a face to match Clint's, shook her head,  _'Not' _ she hesitated for a moment, trying to draw forth a name she didn't have a specific sign for yet before finger spelling it instead,  _'Not W-A-N-D-A?'_

  


Clint smiled at her, spelling it back to her in return before making a gesture. W... Magic... okay, magic started with a W position instead of an M, easy enough. She repeated it back to him and he grinned then shook his head, rolling his eyes a little.

_'No, not Wanda. She's Sokovia's hometown hero, the beloved savior who stole medicine and clothing for the needy and protected everyone at the cost of her brother's life.'_ Clint let out a sharp inhale, inclining his head with a wry smile, ' _No. The moment anyone starts casting blame her way more people speak up for her. She's lucky.'_

  


_'Lucky'_ Laura matched his sarcastic expression and watched him wince at his choice of phrase,  _'Jail time?'_

  


Clint wavered his hand,  _'Stark's too rich. Avengers saved what went wrong, Wanda's a child. They'll pin the blame on Banner who might be dead, and deal with it if he comes back later. Can't have Stark with a bad name, and no one's blaming the war orphan America helped create.'_

  


"Usually they speak Japanese," Lila's loud whisper caught Laura's attention and she turned to look at her daughter. The girl was half leaned over in her booster seat to talk to Wanda conspiratorially over their plates. "But Coop's learning more 'complicated' Japanese so they gotta switch to German. I can sign though and so can Cooper, so they probably don't want you to know what they're saying."

  


Clint groaned,  _'Kids'_ . "Eat your breakfast, gossip girl."

  


"If you can read minds does that mean it doesn't matter if they sign, you know anyway?" Lila obediently took a bite, talking anyway, "Cause you know what they're thinking?"

  


Wanda's half laugh and the way she looked down at her plate answered the question that hadn't even occurred to Laura, and had Clint cursing in Russian at the stove.

  


Oops.

  


\---

  


"You don't have to hide the truth from me." 

  


"I'm not hiding anything," Laura lied blatantly, folding the kids' laundry and ignoring the edge to Wanda's tone. It wasn't a threatening edge, it sounded more like an upset child than an angry adult. Wanda had been somewhat quiet since they'd cut off all TV and news access to the house outside of their phones. Without a phone either, Wanda was now cut off from any updates as well, outside of what she might be able to gleam from their thoughts if she went looking.

  


They didn't really have a defense for that, unfortunately, which led to Laura trying to think other thoughts to occupy her instead of the ongoing battle of blame the news pressed, pitting Avenger against Avenger in the name of 'public interest'.

If Laura had to deal with another day of 'Welcome to New York' stuck in her head she might just go back to thinking about writing a sternly worded letter to the director over at Fox broadcasting.

  


"You are. You're both censoring the world. Making it so you think I can't find out what's going on." Wanda's fingers were rubbing at the zippered ends of the leather jacket it was far to hot to be wearing, but she kept on anyway. "It's a tactic I know well."

  


"I'm not censoring anything," Laura set one of Lila's shirts back down onto the growing pile composed of far too much pink, "I'm keeping a calm environment."

  


"Neznalost je blaženost?" Laura didn't understand the words, but she did understand the look of annoyance, discomfort on Wanda's face. "It isn't truly calm if it's false."

  


Her fingertips were sparkling, Laura noticed, but Wanda's eyes weren't red.

  


"It's not false, it's just manufactured." Hiding information from a teenager from an oppressed war torn state was probably not the best move they'd ever made, treating her like their kids. They'd known better than to keep information from Natasha, but Natasha often knew all the going ons of their neighborhood before they did back when she was newly theirs.

"Manufactured."

  


"Created--"

  


"I know what it means." Wanda almost snapped but she didn't raise her voice, "I'm not a small child. We're not so young we don't deserve to know what's going on. That we can't handle it. You can't just-- just keep things from us, censor things like some official. We've marched, led protests to stop things being kept away. Just because we're young doesn't mean we don't deserve to know what's going on!"

  


We.

We're.

Us.

  


Laura braced her hands on the edge of the table, heart aching, "Wanda."

  


"We're-- we..." her eyes flickered red, just for a moment, and the anger drained from her face, replaced by exhaustion, hurt. "I. I deserve to know."

  


Wanda hadn't had a moment to herself since she came to the farm, Laura realized far too late. She'd been surrounded and watching herself constantly, besieged by questioning kids, or stuck to Clint's side, helping Laura with random things.

  


It was hard to mourn, harder still when you had to watch yourself every second of it.

  


"You're right, you do. Let's take a drive, okay? That sounds fun, we'll take Clint's truck." Laura ignored the clothes on the table, heading for the stairs to yell up at Clint she was leaving and taking Wanda for a drive, kids were glued to Netflix, they'd be fine.

Wanda didn't move in the time it took her to alert Clint, or while she grabbed his truck keys, told the kids to behave. She followed along though when Laura grabbed her wrist lightly and tugged Wanda to follow her.

  


Clint's truck wasn't her favorite thing to drive while pregnant, but it left her SUV with the booster seat in it for Lila just in case Clint had to go anywhere.

  


At least it only took her three tries to haul herself in this time, grabbing the handle and ignoring the fact Clint had to be watching her from one of the upstairs windows and trying not to laugh at her near futile attempts.

  


Wanda didn't even bother to ask where they were going until they'd been on the road a solid ten minutes, watching out the window at various fields they passed instead.

Laura was pretty sure if she tried she could drive for a solid hour before seeing civilization, giving them as long as they needed to talk, probably cry, and throw fits about how unfair the world was.

  


"Nowhere. We're just driving. No kids, no animals underfoot, no house hubby following at your every step to make sure you're okay. Driving's calming, especially when you're in the middle of nowhere."

  


"I never drove much," Wanda admitted after a moment. She had her arms tucked around herself, like she were cold.

  


"No?" 

  


"Cars are a luxury, unnecessary. Pietro can-- could," Wanda faltered, "I... Cars weren't necessary."

  


"Do you want to tell me about him? Your brother," Laura clarified unnecessarily, turning the radio down so it was just low enough they both could ignore it if they wanted to, or pretend it was the only noise worth listening to. After Wanda was silent for nearly an entire commercial Laura spoke up again, "Or I could tell you about my family. My family's pretty freaking weird. I'm sure I could fill an entire cross country trip with stories of just my immediate relatives."

  


Wanda didn't speak up, didn't look at Laura, but Laura didn't hear any discouragement so she returned to the age old method of filling the silence. It had always worked to get Clint or Natasha talking, just talking aloud mostly to herself until the other party laughed or finally talked to make her stop.

  


"Like my grandma," Laura started cheerfully, "She helped found SHIELD. The good SHIELD. Back when SHIELD was all 'lets hire the undesirables', and 'let's pay for really smart kids to go to college' and 'let's protect the world' and not all 'let's be Nazis'," She clarified for Wanda's sake, far too aware of what SHIELD had been up to in the last few years, of which 'SHIELD' Wanda had seemingly joined. "She founded it with this man named Howard St-- with Howard, and with my Grandpa, and they did it in Steve Rogers' memory. They sought out people who were well trained, but that no one else would hire."

Laura drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, pausing for a question that didn't get asked, but that was fine. "Why did they seek them out you might ask? Which is a great question." Laura wavered her hand a bit, "The second War meant a lot of people got drafted. We basically sent every able bodied male of the right age at the various fronts of the war, no matter what. So we took the guys that were the face of America, the right kind of people, but we also sent the guys that back home we discriminated against, and some people outright hated for being whatever it was they were. Once the war was over, the US Army found various ways to give the guys who returned that weren't the typical white, straight, perfect 'Hometown USA' boys discharges that prevented them from getting further help from the Army, or let other places of business discriminate against hiring them. Why? Because we weren't even desegregated at the time, and were decades off of civility towards a lot of the guys we discharged. Plus the US Army and Government has always somehow maintained a higher than average number of assholes in charge," Laura added brightly.  
  


"Anyway so they just had hundreds of really well trained soldiers, doctors, scientists, cryptologists, real bright guys with the best training just sitting around on their asses because no one would hire them because they were Black or Japanese or gay, and my Grandma who was let's say used to being discriminated against for reasons beyond her control decided there was no better place to start staffing their agency then with those who knew what it was like to be the little man, to want to protect people but to also have the world pushing back at you for things you couldn't control."

  


She'd detailed her way through at least a dozen of SHIELD's shenanigans, of the talent agency hiding the worlds worst hidden office, of the great and terrible Russian Assassin her Grandmother battled off and on like Spy vs Spy, and even on through that incident in the 70s her Grandfather always swore was responsible for that terrible 80s movie where a group of children were shrunk down to the size of ants by accident - 'and all the rubbish sequels' - before striking a topic that actually got a response from Wanda.

  


"There are twins in my family, actually. Three sets, two to the same person – you have no idea how big my family is. Apparently the doctors had never seen anyone so infuriated at having twins in their lives as my grandmother when they told her she was having a second set. My Grandfather couldn't stop laughing for a week, but rightly kept his mouth shut anytime she was within earshot."

  


"Why was she angry about twins?"

  


"Because they had twin boys at the time who were still in diapers,” Laura couldn’t help the smile at Wanda actually talking, “See they had Michael and James – mirror images of each other, literally – and weren't exactly trying, or not trying, and when the boys where like 10 months old boom, surprise, second pregnancy. And then it was oh hey, surprise, it's TWO babies in there. So they have to get 4x the stuff, because the boys are still using a lot of their baby things, and now there's more babies and oh man you think diapers now are bad? They were cloth diapering four little ones under 2 years old, and trying to make sure relatives could actually tell the sets apart without any issue. Mary and Maggie weren't even identical. Mary – that's my mom – was damn near bald in most her baby photos."

  


"Huh."

  


"It gets better," Laura continued on, determined to keep Wanda engaging now that she'd at least spoken. "See when the girls were about two my grandparents had a... Kind of like a divorce, without the papers being signed. There was some spat and stupidity – no I never got the full story – but she took her four hellions and moved to England with them. Worked on setting up the newest SHIELD base there, welcome to the 50s and all that."

  


"She moved away so easily?"

  


"She's from England, so it was just going home. Anyway they're separated and angsty with each other, she's running new SHIELD base as the director, but because they're so short staffed she's also running missions. So they get into this one where there's some jackass working for an organization that still uses the iron cross for decoration that's dealing in weapons and hurting a lot of people," Laura shifted in her seat a little, watching Wanda briefly before looking back at the road. Wanda was actually looking back at her now, less hunched into her seat. Though her eyes were fairly red, it was from tears, not from magic. "They go in, blast the bastards, people end up in handcuffs, and in all the scuffle, she finds this little boy hanging out at the base."

  


"A child?"

  


"Yeah, tiny thing. Half starved, real Oliver Twist I've been told. Well she's the only woman in that location, they're still recruiting, and she has little ones at home, so she snatches him up to get him cleaned up and dressed in something that isn't two times too small and unfit for the weather. Finds out hey, he's exactly smack dab between her sets of twins age wise, and wouldn't you know, the poor urchin's name is James," Laura grinned when Wanda actually let out a small laugh, "Right? Turns out daddy dearest is the head jackass in charge, and he swears mom hasn't been around in years, they can't track her down for the life of them – and they tried, even prodded the local midwifes association, no one had any clue who she was. And that leaves her in a difficult situation."

  


"Finding him a home?" Wanda suggested, watching Laura with curiosity. She was still huddled in the jacket, but her fingers weren't worrying at it, she wasn't using it as such a shield.

  


"Figuring out how the hell she could change a three year old's name. Local courts are easily enough sorted out when you're the Director of SHIELD, she had full custody and a legal pushed through adoption within two weeks, but she also then had two sons named James. So since she was in the process of leaving her boneheaded husband anyway, she gave him her maiden name. Leaving her with Mary, Maggie, Michael, James Dugan, and James Carter. Also know as JD and JC. And then of course about two months later her husband - my dear grandpa - came swooping in on a St-SHIELD jet with some grand romantic gesture to win her back and got the shock of a lifetime."

  


"Did his gesture work?"

  


"They were married fifty more years, until his death, and adopted five more kids. Fostered dozens more. They would have adopted Clint, but he's fond of saying that I'd already claimed him, and he was too much of a smartass to tolerate."

  


Wanda laughed at that, a genuine laugh, wiping her eyes of stray tears. She went silent after that, rearranging so her feet were tucked underneath her, even in the car seat, and Laura bit her tongue against saying anything about that.

  


She was wracking her brain for another story, anything to do with the double twins and their surprise Irish triplet, or their childhood insanity when Wanda spoke up again.

  


"He was twelve minutes older than me."

  


Laura didn't insult her by asking who. "Yeah?"

  


Wanda nodded. "He never shut up about it. It made him in charge, him the leader. You'd think it was his accomplishment, not our mother’s, the way he bragged."

  


"Yeah, that sounds like a typical big brother."

  


Wanda nodded, hummed in agreement, "Yes but.. He wasn't... Typical."

  


"Tell me about him?"

  


"He fell off a roof once," Wanda leaned so she rested back against the door, fingers fiddling with the zipper of the jacket, "Trying to impress a girl. He has… had a scar on his head from it, but thought it was worth it, because she gave him a kiss for his trick. It wasn't even an impressive trick, barely a flip and most of that was the fall."

  


"Well as long as he got a kiss out of it." Laura smiled, encouraging Wanda along. It didn't take much then for the stories to start coming out, along with more than a few tears, until Laura pulled off the side of the road and parked, turning in her seat to pay full attention to Wanda. She could apologize to their neighbors later if anyone cared she was parked off in the dirt for an hour or so, or for sprawling out on the grass at the edge of someone's orchard.

She would probably have to send an apology pie to the owners later, though, for the effects of a mourning teenager with magic on some very old looking fencing, but it'd be worth it overall.

  


  


**Author's Note:**

> Planned? What is planning? If you have any comments, questions, suggestions, prompts, feel feel to leave them here, or go yell at me on tumblr (anon or otherwise!): https://mysteriousangstninja.tumblr.com/


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